Things Don't Change
by MyMindIsAHurricane
Summary: You have to face the reality that no matter how hard you try, things don't change, no matter how badly you want them to.


Things Don't Change

Nathan held her hands and smiled as the two of them slowly waltzed around the room. Her fingers were delicate in his, her hands a carefully sculpted work of art. He leaned in closer and smelled her hair, getting lost in the scent of her. He kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer to him. She gazed into his eyes and quietly smiled as he kissed her gently. He released his hands from hers and moved them to the small of her back, pulling them around to rest on the curve of her hips. She broke their kiss and placed her hands on his chest. He felt her heat slowly fading, her touch becoming distant.

His eyes opened and he stared at his ceiling. His hands were on his chest, where hers had been, and he longed to feel that touch just one more time. But he knew he never would. The dream, the beating of his heart every time he thought about her, it was all just wishful thinking. Duke had been trying to talk with him about it, but no matter how long they talked it never made Nathan feel any better. Nothing could fill the emptiness that he felt in his chest. Dwight used to call every other night, just to check in, but those calls slowly vanished, and the other citizens of Haven were finding it harder to look at Nathan directly.

On the table beside him, his phone buzzed and he tapped the screen to ignore the call. He knew that Audrey would've said that he was making a big deal out of everything, and that he should move on, or at least work on an easy case to take his mind off of it all. He would've ignored her and refused to face her, but she would've taken his hands and pulled him into a hug. He closed his eyes and imagined her telling him that everything would be okay and her soft voice comforted him and took away his scrambled thoughts. Her words where music to his soul and he so wanted to hear every note just once more.

A knock on the door startled him, and he shuffled to open it. The second the handle turned, Duke came bursting through the door and went straight into the kitchen. Nathan stood still for a moment, shocked and confused, until he finally closed the door and followed the noise into the kitchen. He froze at the doorway as he saw Duke setting down two plates of pancakes and two cups steaming with coffee.

"Sit down," he ordered. "Let's talk about Audrey."

As awkward as the thought of a breakfast date with Duke was, Nathan sat down and began eating, allowing Duke to lead the conversation. He and Duke sat at the table for hours, recalled the first time they met Audrey, the first case the three of them worked, and the night they all stayed up until four in the morning playing strip poker. They remembered the good and the bad, the easy cases and the hard ones, the people helped and the people lost. It was the closest the two had ever been, the longest they had ever gone without wanting to kill the other. Audrey had brought them together through her love and friendship and it was going to take a great deal of stress and anger to break the bond the two had formed through her kindness.

After Duke left, Nathan changed his clothes, grabbed his gun, got into his car, and drove to the top of the clearing where he and Audrey had investigated their first case together. He sat on the bench and stared out at the afternoon sun, listening to the wind rush through the trees. This was the only really peaceful spot in Haven and he was happy he got to share it with Audrey, even if it had been for only a few minutes. He stayed sitting on the bench until the sun set and the soft breeze turned to a harsh chill. He drove back home in silence and walked into his empty house, longing for her smile. He played the waltz they had been dancing to in his dream and closed his eyes, allowing himself to remember the way she danced with a clumsy sort of grace.

He sat on the couch and imagined her there next to him, feet curled under her, her head resting on his shoulder. He would've turned his head and kissed her forehead and taken her hand, and they would've stayed like that until they both fell asleep.

"I miss you, Parker," he whispered.

He let the music play, holding onto a phantom memory, attempting to chase a dream. He fell asleep and kept waiting for her to show up, but he never again heard her voice, or felt her touch, or saw her smile. He had finally let her go. He wasn't happy about it, but he knew it's what she would've wanted. She wanted him to be happy—that's all she ever wanted. Some words she had told him after his father died rang in his ears and he took comfort in them once again.

"Remember, and then move on. Remember the good and the bad, but then stop remembering and make better memories with the ones you love. You can try to grieve, and you can try to cope, but that won't bring them back. You need to face the reality that no matter how hard you try, things don't change, no matter how badly you want them to."


End file.
